Beneath The Clouds
by Sakrea
Summary: Rain is nice, but perhaps there is a different reason why Ratchet is so enamored with it. Jazz intends to find out.


Well, I am quite proud of this one.

This was written and entered into an August Challenge contest on Livejournal.

The prompt was "Summer storms and winter rains."

I tied for second place, so I feel accomplished and happy.

Enjoy all!

A cold breeze wafted beneath the overhang, carrying with it a frigid humidity that characterized a winter rain.

Jazz revved his engine, his plating shivering despite the heat this created. The cold was fine, he didn't mind it, but the rain that had come with it… Well he had no doubt as to why the humans stayed inside on days like this.

Hidden under the Ark's massive engines, his optics ran across the landscape before him. The droplets fell in a lazy shower, a slow but long-lived rain that softly dribbled across the desert sands. It was a soft pitter-patter that barely managed to form the smallest of puddles before the eager sand sucked it up.

The sight was inspiring, but it only held his interest for a short time. There was something else, something more pressing here. His optics settled on a familiar form, his reason for journeying out of the warm of the Ark. The white frame, slick with the falling liquid, stood stock-still against the open air. He was turned away from his lover; head tipped back, palms open to the sky. White plating, chilled and damp, lay still seemingly unaffected by the elements around him.

The sight, so simple yet so moving, took Jazz out into the open away from the safe haven beneath the Ark. He tred softly across the sand. Rain pinged quick against his plating, tiny pinpricks of cold that tickled his sensors.

The lithe white mech gave no acknowledgment to Jazz's approach, whether he noticed him or not. Optics offlined, he seemed lost to the winter rain.

Jazz slipped his arms around the mech from behind and shivered. The larger mech's plating was clammy, almost feeling lifeless to the touch.

"I think you've been out here too long, Ratchet," Jazz murmured, pressing a warm kiss to the center of the other's back.

Ratchet's optics flickered on, a soft smile gracing his lips. "Maybe I have," he agreed softly, pressing his arms against those encircling him. "But I needed this."

Jazz momentarily nuzzled his face against the cool plating of Ratchet's back before he drew away. "You needed to be frozen?" he asked, his smile gently teasing. "Or are you just looking for an excuse to have me warm you up?"

Ratchet's soft laughter mingled with the steady pitter-patter of falling rain. He turned, drawing red hands forward to rest easily on his partner's warm hip plating. "I wouldn't refuse the offer," he admitted with a smile.

Jazz approached, sliding his arms once more around the cold mech. He spread his hands against Ratchet's back, futilely trying to warm too-cool plating.

Ratchet's engine rumbled, running vibrations through both their frames. His chest plating warmed only a few degrees before the rain dragged it back down.

"Why are you out here anyway, Ratch?" Jazz asked, shivering despite himself as he drew closer to his lover.

The medic tilted his head back a fraction, gazing up at the overcast sky with dimming optics. "I love the rain," he answered simply.

Jazz lifted a hand, setting it against the other's chest. "Most of us do," he noted. "But is the dead of winter really a good time to appreciate the weather?"

Lips twitching, Ratchet's optics peered intently into his partner's. He gave no response.

Jazz expelled hot air across the medic's glass-plated chest. Rain streaked across the fogged glass as the smaller mech traced the outline of a heart into the condensation. "Rain's nice, but it's better in summer," he murmured.

"I know."

"Then why come out here?" Jazz asked, watching water droplets erase his mark from the glass.

"I don't want to wait for summer," Ratchet replied, optics drifting across the wet expanse of desert surrounding them.

"Watch it from inside. It's warmer that way," Jazz suggested.

"It's not the same," Ratchet said softly, shrugging. "I want to experience it like this."

Jazz leaned into the embrace, setting his chin against the damp glass of his chest. "Explain it to me," he rumbled. "Help me understand why you are freezing your aft off out here."

The medic grinned, extending one hand out to catch a few of the falling drops in his palm. "Water is so important to life on this planet…" he murmured, venting barely-warmed air from his systems. "They use it in their bodies, their cells. It keeps them alive and breathing. They use it to regulate temperature and produce energy. They cradle their young in a womb filled with liquid… A simple element composed of three minuscule molecules yet it supports the entirety of organic life…"

Jazz listened, drinking in his mate's explanation. The emotion, the depth of his words, it was more than he expected. But it was beautiful.

Jazz pressed a kiss to the medic's neck cables, grinning against the cool surface.

Ratchet started in surprise at the contact, but didn't withdraw. "Jazz?" he murmured, his voice tinged with amusement.

The smaller mech revved his engine, pouring some of his heat into the medic's frame. "You are incredible," Jazz rumbled against his mate's neck.

"Oh?" Ratchet noised, holding the warm body close.

"All that passion," Jazz responded, his visor dim as he contented himself with molding against his lover's frame. "I love it. I love _you_."

Ratchet's chest shook as laughter bubbled forth from his vocalize. "Passion?" he mused. "I didn't think you'd love my passion for falling liquid."

"I tolerate it and occasionally find myself intrigued by it," Jazz said, grinning.

The cool rain fell over them in a continuous drizzle, chilling the two mechs until their plating began to quake. Even their close proximity to each other did little to lessen the biting cold.

"You still find yourself ensnared by the tantalizing fall of water?" Jazz asked after a moment, shifting against the other.

Ratchet's fingers slicked across Jazz's hip plating, sliding around to smooth along his lower back. "I do." he replied, optics twinkling. "But perhaps we should return to the heat of the Ark before our systems freeze over."

Jazz's visor brightened, illuminating the clear drops descending past his vision. "And we'll warm up?"

The medic laughed, releasing his mate so that they could move toward the cover of the Ark. "I'll see to it that you are thoroughly warmed," he assured.

Jazz looped an arm through Ratchet's, drawing their sides together as they stepped through the winter rain. "And I will see to it that we thoroughly examine one of those summer storms," he answered. "I want to see more of that passionate zeal. Heated of course."

The pitter-patter of rain against their plating mingled harmoniously with soft laughter, carried away by the winter wind.

Time passed. Summer returned and with it came summer storms.

Lightning streaked through the sky, winking out in an instant. Thunder rolled across the landscape, low, loud, and powerful. Rain pounded into the ground, reshaping the surface. Dunes ripped open, sand sliding and shifting. Craters formed, hills rose, water forced patterns into everything.

Summer storms wrought change. Their arrival symbolized a new time. It meant new life, growth, and change into this organic environment. Seasons come and seasons go, shifting into one another, bringing about change that helped life continue on.

Life continued… The thought was laughable yet it rang true. The world turned on, unstoppable in the face of change, in life, in death. Nothing stopped it.

The downpour slammed into the earth, crashing against white plating. Warm water dripped, rushed, and poured into him. It seeped through seams and cracks, crawling across sensors and components. Thunder boomed across the landscape as lighting streaked through the cloud-blackened sky. It clutched him in its grip, enveloping him in a surplus of sensations. His sensor net lit up, burning him in spite of the cool numbness dragging at his processor.

No thought. Just feeling. He didn't want to think. He didn't want to remember.

_**Crash**_.

_**Boom.**_

Lightning slammed into the ground in front of him. Electricity skittered over his plating.

No thought. Death. No. Don't.

Rain mingled with energy tickling him, making him feel. He was alive. He was alone.

Wind screamed across the desert. It tangled around him in violent caresses. Sound, cold, warm, chilled, soothed, loud, light, _sound_.

_**Death.**_

A sob ripped forth from Jazz's vocalizer. Optics flared in the darkened air, casting a blue glow on fat, falling drops. Sorrow gripped his spark.

Summer storms brought life. Water, the life-blood of organics. It streamed across the parched, weathered sand in rivers. With it came existence.

Lightning cut open the sky, an audial-splitting crack of thunder slammed through the air after it.

Life. Summer storms brought life. Lightning. Electricity. The life-blood of his people. It flowed through them, powering their movements, carrying their thoughts, connecting their emotions, cradling their love. Without it, they died. With it, they lived.

A cry of anguish was let loose to the sky. Jazz crushed his arms around his middle. Emptiness consumed him.

No thought. Only feeling. _No._

He was dead. Ratchet was dead, ripped from him so early in life. A change of season; winter to spring. His spark shattered, wrenched from his body as death embraced him. Promises never kept. Unable to be together, to feel together.

Thought. Feeling.

Wind whipped at his plating. Rain pounded against him, shaping him, changing him. It flowed through him, bringing new life. Lightning streaked through the sky. Thunder shook the earth.

Summer storms brought rain and lightning. Water and energy. Change and revival. The life-blood of two.

Broken and lost. Things began to change.

_Life persists. _


End file.
